


worth her weight in gold

by iv (ivan)



Series: drop our anchors in a storm [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game), DCU
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cannibalism, F/M, Magic, Major Character Undeath, Major Original Character(s), Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 04:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12786828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivan/pseuds/iv
Summary: an alternate ending of sorts to fix/conflict - in which batman was too late, and oswald will stop at nothing to bring his beloved back. an alt-version of act V; fin still applies.





	worth her weight in gold

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [fix me or conflict me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12762849) by [iv (ivan)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivan/pseuds/iv). 



> that was kind of fun to write. i had a bad day.  
> regarding sky alchesay: http://jonblake.tumblr.com/post/167710999311/man-i-sure-love-making-things-complicated-for

Batman was too late; when he got to the cemetery the deed was done, and Thomas Elliot was lying on Eleanor’s grave, blood oozing out of his cut wrists.

“Where is it?!” Batman roared. “Where is her heart?!”

But the blood on Elliot’s lips and teeth told him the terrifying truth; the heart was gone, and after a moment - so was Thomas, his eyes empty and lifeless and cold as ice.

Penguin didn’t take the news well, but Batman couldn’t blame him; a woman he loved was slowly dying, as even Barafu devices couldn’t keep a person alive for more than few hours. She was dying, and there was nothing Oswald could do; all he could do was to scream at Batman in fruitless, helpless rage as he pounded the vigilante’s chest with his fists until they were bleeding, until he could no longer scream, until he could only utter his threats of destruction in a hoarse whisper.

“I am sorry, Oswald.” Batman said; and he meant it. His own heart was breaking - he was too late, there was nothing he could do. Finding a new heart on time was impossible; and Charlie’s fate was sealed, sealed by Gotham’s cruelty, by a twisted obsession, by a man who thought _to love_ means _to possess._

“Like hell you are!” Oswald choked out. “One less criminal scum for you to worry about, eh, Bats? You don’t _kill_ \- but you don’t save lives either. I will come for you, Bats. I will find you, and everyone you love and I will take them away from you. I will burn this whole fucking city down. You will burn. Everyone will burn.”

Batman didn’t say anything, watching Penguin leave the room; the man’s body was shaking and Bruce felt so, so tired.

Once again, someone took everything from Oswald - and once again, Bruce couldn’t stop it from happening.

***

Oswald felt like he’s in a nightmare, induced by Scarecrow’s fear toxin - but this was not a dream. This was a reality, one he never wanted to face, one he never even considered; this was a reality where Charlie was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Thomas Elliot cut her heart out; and she was dying in her sleep.

“He was too late.” Oswald said, not looking at anyone in particular. “The heart’s gone. She’s gone.”

Someone sobbed quietly; someone put a hand on his shoulder, and he didn’t like it, but he didn’t shake it off. He was too numb to care; it felt as if all of his emotions had been taken away from him.

And yet - under all this numbness, all this emptiness - there was pain impossible to describe, as if a wild animal was eating him alive from the inside out, as if someone bathed his insides in acid, as if he swallowed glass and razor blades. He knew this pain, he remembered it well; it was the pain of his father’s death, of his mother being taken away, of himself being sent away, of finding out what really happened, of Lady Arkham being presumed dead. This pain came from the sense of loss, helplessness, fear - and there was nothing he could do about it. This pain consumed everything in its path; as he punched the wall tears began to stream down his face again.

They let him sit with her for those last few hours she had left.

She looked so peaceful, so calm - even though he was sure her last moments of consciousness were filled with horror. She looked as if she was about to wake up, yawn and stretch. She looked like she wasn’t dying; but she was.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered to her, even though he knew she can’t hear him. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

That was all he could say; _I’m sorry. I love you._ He kept repeating those words for hours, his throat burning and his voice breaking; he repeated them over and over again, for hours, until he could barely even whisper.

He sent her to that damn mansion; he sent her straight to the lion’s den, and left her there all alone. Her death was on him.

After a few hours, it was over - she was gone.

***

“You can’t just storm a police station!”

His first impulse was to get Scarecrow - the man who stopped him from saving her - and make him _pay_ , make him pay in blood.

“Why not?” Oswald croaked out, barely able to speak at all.

“You’ll get yourself killed!” Skua said desperately to which he only laughed bitterly.

It’s been a week since Charlie died in the hospital; a long, painful week Oswald mostly spent drunk, refusing to face this new reality where he lost yet another person he loved.

“So what?” he eventually said. “There’s no point, Sky.”

“Charlie wouldn’t want you to _die_!”

“Of course she wouldn’t!” he replied bitterly, his voice breaking. “She wouldn’t want that, because she loved me so damn much. She loved me so much it killed her.”

“Oswald-”

“Don’t call me that.” he interrupted her. “There is no more Oswald Cobblepot, that man died with her in that hospital. There is only Penguin now.”

“That’s not what she would have wanted!”

“How do you know?” he asked quietly. “You barely knew her at all. Me, on the other hand… I knew her well. She was all for revenge. She’d love it if I avenged her.”

“Not if you died.”

“So what do you _want_ me to do, huh? Do you want me to just move on and begin anew? Pretend she never happened? Forget?”

“I don’t know, Penguin.” Skyler admitted, her own voice breaking. “I don’t know how to help you.”

They were in the living room of Charlie’s house in Crest Hill; they were alone. Misty and Esme quietly took Pingu in - and Oswald was somehow still free to walk the streets. Nobody arrested him; maybe the police didn’t have a protocol for a situation like this.

“Her pillow still smells like her.” he said very quietly. “I have a bottle of her favorite perfumes, and her bathrobe, and her clothes. Her electric toothbrush is still plugged in for charging - and I can’t make myself unplug it.”

His voice cracked and he covered his face with his hands and he started to cry _again_ ; he cried a lot recently, when he was sober enough for his brain to remind him of what happened, of what he had lost.

Skyler sat down next to him, on the floor.

“Tell me about her.” she said eventually. “Tell me about how you want to remember her.”

“She was so beautiful.” he whispered. “And made me feel like not everything’s lost for me, like she knew things are going to work out one way or another, no matter what. She _understood_. She _cared_ , she said over and over she’s not going to leave me, that I’m not going to lose her… And I did. I did, I did, I did.”

They sat in silence for a few hours; he didn’t care. He didn’t care much about anything anymore.

***

Many people paid him a visit, many people he’d normally want to punch or kill; but he didn’t care. Their words didn’t affect him and the emptiness inside of him; Victor, Black Mask, Bruce - he didn’t care. He was angry, and he could feel his anger, he knew it’s _there_ , somewhere - but at some point the numbness started to feel almost comforting, like her warm embrace.

He knew it’ll pass at some point. Eventually the numbness will wear down and fade, and there will be only anger and pain left. He knew this day will come eventually - the day when his promise becomes a reality, the day when Gotham burns to the ground along with every person living there. Under all this numbness, all this emptiness - there was a part of him that wanted to paint these streets red.

But the emptiness clouded those urges, clouded everything. He barely ate and barely slept; and didn’t say anything when Louise came over to discuss funeral arrangements.

“She named you as a person in charge of everything.” she told him quietly. “We… Found her will.”

“When did she write it?” Oswald asked quietly, not even looking at her.

“About a week before-”

Her voice broke.

“She has to be buried at some point.” she said in a normal tone; but he didn’t answer. He didn’t even want to think about the funeral; where was he supposed to bury her? Next to her parents, where the chance of saving her died the moment Thomas bit into her heart? In Gotham? In Australia, next to her husband she killed?

He never took care of the funeral; and eventually - he didn’t have to.

***

“What do you mean her body is _missing_?!”

About a month after her death, about a month after he kissed her hand for the last time as his tears crashed against her skin Harvey Bullock paid him a visit. At first Oswald thought he came to arrest him; and he was almost ready to put up a fight. It’s been a month, and his numbness was slowly fading; he was still mostly indifferent about everything - but every now and then he could feel the first stings of anger poking out from beneath the choking nothingness.

And this was one of those moments.

He hadn’t seen Bullock since her death; but he heard Charlie’s passing took its toll on him, as he was allegedly considering leaving the force.

(Her death left a mark on a lot of people; that’s just the way Charlie was.)

“Someone stole it.” Bullock repeated quietly and he looked helpless and tired. “Someone broke into the hospital morgue and… Took it.”

Oswald clenched his fists and punched the wall - like he did many times during this month. His knuckles were sore and bruised, but it didn’t matter; he needed this pain.

“Who did it?” he asked in a raspy voice, not taking his eyes off Bullock. “Who?!”

“We have no clue.” the detective admitted. “They left no trace.”

“Black Mask.” Oswald replied quietly. “It’s Mask’s doing. Masks never leave any trace. Can’t she leave Charlie alone even after her death?!” he asked angrily. “She’s gone. Why can’t she be left alone even after death?!”

He got up; but after weeks of barely sleeping and barely eating his body was weak and he nearly fell down.

“I’m going to scour the black market.” he claimed. “If they took her body to sell it - I will find it, I will find her body and then I will rip out the throats of whoever fucking _dared_ -”

He had to pause to catch his breath; and he staggered towards the stairs, to head upstairs, where his mask was hidden under the bed.

But he never made it there; as he was passing Bullock the detective stabbed him with a needle of a syringe, injecting him with some translucent liquid.

“I’m sorry, Cobblepot.” he said as Oswald stared at him in disbelief. “But this is for your own good.”

“What… What?” Oswald muttered; everything was becoming more and more blurry, his tongue felt heavy and uncomfortable and his legs suddenly stopped being able to support him. He leaned against the wall, trying to not fall down, trying to keep his eyes open - which was hard, because his eyelids were becoming more and more heavy. “You s… You son of a…”

“It’s for your own good.” Bullock said, sounding almost remorseful. “Sleep, Penguin. She wouldn’t want you to be like this.”

“She wanted to help me, and it got her killed!” Oswald wanted to say - but he couldn’t.

He fell down; he was fast asleep before his body hit the floor.

***

He woke up in bed upstairs, the same bed he shared with Charlie; her pillow still smelled like her, and for a moment - when it was just him and this faint, lingering smell and a soft blanket - it felt like nothing had changed, or like the morning after their first night. She snuck out of the bedroom, and only left a note behind - a note and marks on his back and a memory of her touch on his skin.

But he remembered as soon as he opened his eyes; he remembered as soon as he looked around the room to see the mess he made in a fit of despair one day. Her clothes were everywhere - but none of them torn. He couldn’t bring himself to destroy any of her belongings; and after that afternoon he couldn’t force himself to even touch anything belonging to her.

It took him a while to notice a figure in the corner of the room; tall and slim and dressed in white, her face hidden behind a black mask.

He jumped out of bed with the intention of attacking her - but even despite finally getting some sleep his body was still weakened and he nearly blacked out.

“ _Get out_.” he groaned angrily, stumbling in her direction, his fists clenched.

“Please, Penguin.” the Mask said quietly, not moving. “I want to talk.”

“And what _I_ want is to cut you into tiny, tiny pieces.” he said, heavily leaning against the wall, his body begging for food. “You got her killed. She’s dead because of you!”

“She’s dead because of Elliot and his urges!” the Mask protested angrily; but Oswald only laughed bitterly.

“Yes, push the blame away from yourself! That’s the one thing we, criminals of Gotham, know how to do.”

“I want to talk.” the Mask repeated. “Please, Penguin. I- I never meant for _this_ to happen, this was never part of the plan! I-”

He suddenly jumped at her, ripping the mask off her face; she screamed, pushed him away and turned around, covering whatever was underneath before he saw her identity.

“Listen to me!” she pleaded, desperately covering her mouth with her hand to distort her voice. “There is still a way to save her, _listen to me_!”

He froze in place, his thoughts racing; he gripped the mask tightly, staring at Mask’s back.

“What?” he finally asked.

“Give me my mask back.” she demanded. “Give it to me, and I will tell you.”

“Is this a joke?” he asked quietly.

“GIVE ME MY MASK!”

Hesitantly he gave it back to her and she put it back on instantly; finally she turned around, her face hidden again.

“There is still a way to save her.” she repeated. “And I can help you. I _will_ help you - and it will cost you nothing. She died, trying to help you pay back Lady Arkham’s debt. She was caught in the crossfire, and Penguin… You know just how bad deaths of innocent bystanders are for business.”

Her words cut deep, but it didn’t matter; all that mattered there apparently was a way of bringing her _back_ , of reversing her death.

“Tell me.” he demanded. “Now.”

“Magic.” Mask stated. “Necromancy.”

He stared at her in silence for a long while; this sounded like a very elaborate and very cruel joke at the expense of his loss, at the expense of his suffering.

“Magic’s just a pile of flaming shite.” he finally said; but Mask shook her head.

“Not _this_ magic.” she stated. “Do you know Richard Swift?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Then what about Shade?”

“I worked with him a few times, back in England.” Oswald remembered. “The best damn thief I’ve ever seen, myself included.”

“Magic.” Mask stated. “Shade is a master of shadow magic.”

“And how does that help _me_?”

“He’s also a very charismatic individual.” she said calmly. “He recently joined forces with two… Less charismatic people who specialize in necromancy. He’s their spokesperson; he’s the one you deal with.”

“Is that why you’re here?” he asked tiredly. “To mock me with fairy tales and false hopes? Go to hell, Mask.”

“On the contrary!” he heard a familiar voice, coming from the other side of the room; when he turned around - feeling dizzy and lightheaded - Shade was there, carelessly spinning his signature cane. “Penguin, old boy, it’s good to see you.”

Shade barely changed since Oswald last saw him; his face was still skeletal and pale and his hair were still an uncontrollable black mass.

“And how the bloody hell did _you_ get here?!” Oswald asked faintly; and Shade chuckled in response.

“Didn’t you hear? I’m the master of the shadows!” he announced, lightly tapping the floor with his cane; suddenly he was standing next to Oswald. Tap - he was behind Mask. Tap - he was behind Oswald.

“Am I dreaming? Is this a dream?” Oswald asked; Mask cocked her head.

“Do you want me to slap you?”

“Yes.”

So she did; and it hurt and he didn’t wake up.

“So you’re a… Magician?” he asked, glancing at Shade, who shrugged.

“You could call it that.” he said carelessly. “Personally I prefer the term _the best burglar in the world._ ”

“Fuck.” Oswald muttered under his breath. “If I knew about _that_ , I’d hire _you_ instead of the Catwoman.”

“Your loss.” Shade said carelessly, before becoming more serious. “Our masked friend here told me about your situation.” he added. “My condolences, old friend. Losing a lover like this… I can’t even imagine.”

“Yeah.” Oswald muttered, feeling a sudden lump in his throat and sharp pain in his heart. “But… Is that true? That you can bring her back?”

“Not me, no.” Shade said, shaking his head. “But my friend? Oh, yes. He excels at bringing back the dead… And you’ve seen _my_ magic.” he added. “A proof of magic actually working. So… What are you waiting for?”

At first, Oswald was overjoyed - but then he remembered what Bullock said, what Bullock did.

“Someone stole her body.” he said, turning to Mask; she nodded.

“That was me.” she admitted. “Don’t worry, it’s safe and well preserved. You have more friends than you think. I didn’t even have to threaten anyone to get them to help me.”

It all sounded to good to be true; but Oswald decided to not let the doubts win.

“Show me the way.” he said to Shade raspily; but the thief furrowed his brows and shook his head.

“Take a shower first. You smell like a dumpster.” he stated. “And maybe eat something. You look like your own shadow, Penguin. Be careful, I might be able to manipulate you.”

He chuckled at his own joke; but Penguin didn’t even smile, instead heading to the bathroom.

(Her dress was there, the one she wore when he killed the Joker; he then kissed her in a dimly lit corridor, he kissed her and her skin was soft and warm under his touch.)

He took a shower and put on some clean clothes; he found a shirt she liked to steal from him, a plain white v-neck with a lipstick stain on it. He never got it out; it was her lipstick.

Mask and Shade forced him to eat a bowl of oatmeal - and finally they took him to where Shade’s friends were waiting.

“Where is she?” he asked, turning to Mask. “Where are you keeping her?”

“In a safe place, deep underground. She’s safe, Penguin.”

“I want to see her.”

“Do you really want to see her corpse?”

“Yes.” he choked out; the memory of her face was still vivid and detailed and painful.

The Mask nodded.

“Fine. I’ll take you to her later.” she said calmly. “But first… You’re going to talk to Shade’s friend. Ask them for help.”

“We’re magicians.” Shade added in a casual tone. “Black Mask - no matter how respected or feared by rest of the Gotham - has no power over us. Meaning… They can’t force us to do anything via threats.”

“Fine.” Oswald said quietly. “I’ll ask. Nicely. I already offered Batman my freedom in exchange for her life.”

Shade’s companions turned out to be an Apache woman named Sky Alchesay and a pale, very serious looking young boy named Klarion.

“So you’re the Penguin.” Sky said, looking at him; she looked very plain, completely unlike drama-loving Shade. “I’ve heard about your loss. The world had became a bleaker place.”

“It did.” he said stiffly, looking between her and Klarion. “I… I’ve come here to ask for your assistance.” he eventually choked out; he was not used to asking for things. Penguin was not a man who asked; he was a man who simply took what he wanted, considering it rightfully his anyway.

Sky looked at him calmly.

“Go ahead.” she said eventually; her voice was slightly husky and she had beautiful hands with remarkably long, slender fingers. “Ask.”

“Yes, Penguin.” Klarion chimed in, petting a cat sitting on his shoulder. “Just ask!”

“Please.” he breathed out. “Please, help me.”

“Oh.” Klarion said, sounding disappointed. “That’s all you’ve got? No _pretty please_? No _pretty please with cherry on top_? No-”

“Klarion.” Sky interrupted him. “This is enough, witch boy.”

“But-”

“This is enough.” she repeated; her tone barely changed, but there was a weird spark in her eye. It was enough to shut Klarion up.

“Very well.” she said, returning her attention to Oswald. “We will help.”

“Splendid!” Shade exclaimed, clapping his hands. “So, my friend, let me quickly walk you through the process. First, this here lovely Sky will summon the spirit of the deceased, so you can ask her if she _wants_ to come back. If she doesn’t - case closed. Bringing back someone who doesn’t want to return never ends well.” he added with a pained expression.

Oswald nodded slowly.

“Let’s assume she _does_ want to come back. What then?”

“Then it’s _my_ turn!” Klarion chimed in. “Bringing someone back to life requires more than just their soul. _Everyone_ can summon a soul - but not everyone can fill someone’s body with a lifeforce and connect it to said soul, thus anchoring the soul down.” he said with a wolfish smile. “I can do that! I’m _great_ at this. The only problem is… The price.”

“The price?” Oswald asked hesitantly.

“The balance of the universe can’t be disrupted.” Klarion explain. “For every death someone gets born. And for every rebirth… Someone has to die. It can be anyone, really.” Klarion added hastily. “Just as long as it’s the same species, so a dog won’t do. Someone has to sacrifice their life for the universe to accept the dead person back.”

“S’alright.” Oswald stated, feeling a lump in his throat. “Gotham’s filled with monsters. I’ll find someone.”

“Really? You’re willing to take someone’s life just to bring your lover back?”

“I took multiple lives just to get back a small piece of my family’s fortune. I can live with that.”

“Then it’s a deal!” Shade announced, shaking Oswald’s hand. “And… Don’t worry about the price. It’s on the house. For old times’ sake.”

“We have to _eat_ , Shade.” Sky reminded him; but Shade only waved his hand.

“And I can steal plenty of food in no time! Don’t be such a materialist, Sky. Now. Shall we begin?”

“I don’t have any plans anyway.” Sky sighed, getting up from her chair. “Penguin. In order to summon the spirit I need something that belonged to her.”

Oswald nodded and quietly pulled a thin leather strip he wore around his neck from underneath his shirt. Charlie rarely wore rings, but she had one she particularly liked; a very simple little trinket, with thin rose gold band and teardrop-shaped blue spinel. It was her favorite; she often played with it when lost in thought - and now Oswald wore it as a pendant, a reminder.

He handed it to Sky, who closed her eyes for a moment.

“Yes, this will do.” she eventually decided. “Follow me. There are some things you should know about before we begin.”

“I’m all ears.”

“You will be alone in the room with the spirit. I don’t like people watching me work. Secrets of the trade.” she added. “You will be blindfolded - do not under any circumstances take the blindfold off. I’ll do it once it’s safe. Before you begin the actual conversation - ask the spirit about something only the real her would know. That way you’ll be sure you’re talking to the right one. And finally - don’t let her kiss you or taste your blood. I know it might be hard.” she added in a softer tone. “Especially given the circumstances. But through a kiss a spirit can steal your breath away, killing you in the process.”

“And the blood?”

“Many spirits want to return to the plane of living. The taste of human blood, the taste of life… Drives them insane. Makes them dangerous and vicious.”

“Alright, I can do that.” he said, thinking about all those things only Charlie knew about him. “Anything else?”

“I need her name. Something she’ll surely answer to.”

“Charlie.” he said instantly, the word almost burning his tongue, making his heart ache.

“Alright.” she said quietly, opening the door to a small room; inside there was only a chair, a wooden table and a lamp. “Sit down. I’ll blindfold you, close the doors… And we’ll begin.”

He nodded silently and did like she said; after a moment he was alone in the darkness, only him and his breath.

After a few more moments he heard a voice - _her_ voice. It made his heart skip a beat and ache and he felt a lump in his throat and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

“Oswald?” she said hesitantly; and the sound of his name, spoken in her voice almost made him cry.

“Charlie.” he choked out. “Tell me something only you would know, Charlie. About me. About us.”

“We have a fundamental disagreement regarding coffee.” she said. “You drew my blood when we first slept with each other, and when we met months later you asked if it left a scar. You tried teaching Pingu to hate Bruce. You-”

“This is enough.” he interrupted her, his voice breaking. “It’s… It’s really you.”

“I know I’m dead, Oswald.” she said softly; he could feel the gentle touch of her fingertips on his cheek, soft like a gust of wind. “You look terrible.”

“It’s because I miss you, my love.” he confessed. “From the moment you died. I was with you till the end. But I couldn’t- I couldn’t-”

He couldn’t finish, his breath shaky; but she understood. She quieted him down, putting a finger on his lips.

“Shhh, my love.” she whispered. “Don’t blame yourself. It was not your fault. But tell me… How did I die?”

“Elliot cut your heart out.” he whispered; his throat was so tight the words barely made it out of his mouth. “He then took it to New York, to your mother’s grave… And he ate it, before killing himself. And the machine he used could only keep you alive for so long.”

Silence fell; and for a moment he was sure she left.

“You said you were with me till the end.” she said eventually. “Thank you.”

“I couldn’t leave you.” he choked out. “I’m so sorry, Charlie.”

“It’s not your fault some people are actually monsters in well-crafted disguises. It’s not your fault a predator catches its prey.”

“But I _knew_ he’s a monster! _I_ sent you there!”

“But you didn’t know about his _true_ nature. It’s not your fault.” she repeated. “You’re not a good person, Oswald - but you’re also not an evil one. You never saw me as a pawn and you wouldn’t have sent me there if you _knew_.” she said softly. “It’s not your fault.”

“I love you.” he whispered; and he could feel her cold lips on his forehead.

“And I love you.” she whispered into his ear. “Even from beyond - I love you.”

“I can bring you back.” he finally said. “You can be brought back to life, Charlie. Your body… Your body is still intact.”

“Bring me back.” she said almost instantly; but he had to make sure.

“Do you want it? Do you want to be brought back?”

“Yes.” she pleaded. “My god, yes, Oswald, _please_. I don’t want to be dead.”

She was sobbing; and he wished he could take her into his arms, let her hide her face in the fabric of his shirt.

“I don’t want to be dead!” she sobbed out. “I miss you, and I don’t want to be dead!”

“You won’t be.” he promised her. “I swear. I will bring you back, no matter what.”

“Please.” she whispered. “I love you.”

She brushed his lips with her fingertips; and just like that she was gone. Sky entered the room and took the blindfold off; Oswald blinked a few times, his eyes getting used to light again.

“Well?” Sky asked, looking at him expectantly. “What did she say?”

“She said _yes_.” he said firmly. “She wants to come back.”

“Good.” she said with a relieved smile. “My work here is done, Penguin.” she added, handing him her ring back. “Now everything’s up to the witch boy and you. Klarion!” she called out, so suddenly and so sharply Oswald flinched.

Klarion showed up almost instantly, along with his cat.

“I’m assuming it means your spirit said _yes_.” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Which is great, because it means I get to do my job. I like my job.” he added. “So now we need a sacrifice. But before you head out and kidnap some unfortunate stranger… There’s one thing I’d like to try.”

“Do tell.”

“See, I only ever used actual people - but I never used an _idea._ An _identity_. An _essence_.”

“What do you mean?” Oswald asked cautiously, not following; Klarion scoffed.

“Let’s take you as an example. There’s you - and then there’s that other you. There’s Penguin - and there’s… Whatever your name is.” he said, waving his hand. “Two people in one body - and I’m wondering if I can use something like _this_ as a sacrifice.”

“And are you talking specifically about _my_ dual identity?”

“Not really, no. Me and Mask had a little chat.” he said carelessly. “She mentioned how much she actually dislikes being the Mask, so I thought - _let’s get rid of the Mask_. She says it’s worth a shot. _And_ your next stop is wherever the body is anyway, so… Two birds one stone. Curiosity killed the cat… Satisfaction brought it back.” he said, petting his cat; it meowed, wrapping its tail around his neck.

“Alright.” Oswald agreed; he could still feel Charlie’s lips on his forehead, he could still hear her voice in his ears. “We can try that. What if it works?”

“No idea.” Klarion said with a shrug. “Let’s find out!”

***

Charlie’s body was hidden in an underground bunker, secured with state of the art, deadly security systems that could only be deactivated with an eyeball scan of the current Mask.

“My predecessor refused to give his assets up on his own, so I had to improvise.” Mask said, answering Oswald’s silent question. “The Riddler helped me out. He reprogrammed the system for me.”

The door opened with a quiet whoosh.

The concrete room was spacious, well lit and almost completely empty, save for a massive computer on the opposite side - Oswald suspected it might be the legendary Oracle, a supercomputer rumored to have access to every device all over the city - and-

In the middle of the room there was a cryogenic chamber. There was a brand name on its side - Barafu.

And inside the chamber was Charlie’s lifeless body. Oswald slowly approached it, not taking his eyes off her face, barely visible through the frosted glass; he could see small ice crystals formed on her eyelashes and brows and her lips were blue.

( _Blue Lips_ was one of her favorite songs; blue lips, blue veins, blue - the color of our planet from far, far away.)

“I’ll bring you back, love.” he whispered, resting his forehead against the cold glass, mere inches from her face, frozen in lifeless slumber.

“I know.” he heard; it was the faintest, quietest whisper, so quiet he almost missed it; but he smiled, knowing she’s with him.

“I told you she’s intact.” Mask said quietly, approaching him. “Victor’s guilt is consuming him, Penguin.”

“Good.” he said hoarsely. “He should be glad I didn’t come to him afterwards. He’d be dead if I did.”

“He knows that.”

“So, let’s begin!” Klarion said in a chipper voice. “Penguin, you might want to look away. My magic’s… Flashy and sparkly.”

“Shouldn’t we… Defrost her first?”

“There’s no need.” Mask said. “The chamber… Is intelligent. It’ll manage as soon as it detects vitals.”

“So proceed.” Oswald breathed out, walking away. “Do your magic, witch boy.”

But it didn’t work - not in the slightest. Turned out - an idea, an identity is not enough to bring dead back to life.

“Well.” Klarion said, not even trying to hide his disappointment. “That was worth a shot. Oh well.” he said with a shrug. “The more you know. Now it’s up to you to find a sacrifice.” he added, looking at Oswald. “You know where to find me. Good luck!”

Oswald and Mask were left alone; she hesitantly put her hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Penguin.” she said; and she sounded almost genuine. “What now?”

“Now I’m going to get my hands dirty.” he said calmly, cracking his head and then knuckles. “I’d consider Scarecrow as poetic justice of sorts, but… He’s surrounded by the police. I’ll get him some other day.”

“Hang on.” Mask said, walking up to the computer; she printed something out and returned to him.

“I tracked down some of the other people involved in the Hush.” she said, handing it to him. “Some of them might still be in Gotham.”

“I suppose you can’t just find me a sacrifice, can you?”

“I could.” she admitted. “But do you really want me to do it?”

“No.” he said with a shrug; he felt something akin to a thrill run down his spine. “Wish me luck, Mask.”

“Good luck, Penguin. Good hunting.”

***

He made the mistake of talking to Fish - for the first time since Charlie’s death. She welcomed him with open arms and without questions; she lost her fair share of people and knew the process and pain of mourning well.

“I’m so sorry, boy.” she said to him quietly. “I know you love her, and I know she loved you.”

“There’s a way to bring her back, Fish.” he whispered, his face burrowed between her neck and shoulder. “I saw magic with my own two eyes. There’s a way to bring her back.”

And he told her everything - and she listened attentively. She believed him, he saw it in her eyes; she was in Gotham for far longer than him and saw her fair share of oddities.

But someone was listening - someone who should not hear a word of what Oswald said about needing a sacrifice.

“I can do it.” he heard a shaky voice coming from the doorway; and when he looked he saw Ella, the girl who spent months as Elliot’s human pet. She was pale and looked fragile - and her recently shaved head only accentuated it, making her eyes and the dark circles underneath appear bigger.

“Ella, you’re not thinking straight.” Oswald said cautiously; Ella spent months being tortured, humiliated, degraded. Her mental health was most likely in shambles - and he wondered what is she doing at the Waterfront rather than in a hospital.

“It’s my fault she’s dead.” Ella said; she was shaking, even despite wearing warm clothes. “It’s my fault! I was supposed to warn her - but I didn’t! And now she’s dead!”

She was shaking so badly she nearly fell down; Fish hurriedly walked up to her and made her sit down in a nearby chair.

Oswald’s first instinct was anger; Ella violated Charlie’s trust. In a way - it _was_ her fault.

But before he opened his mouth - he thought about what would Charlie say. Would she be angry at this tormented, almost broken girl? Would she let _his_ anger slide? She was fine with his resentment towards Bruce; but he couldn’t imagine her being fine with him lashing out at Ella.

So instead he kneeled down in front of a shaking, sobbing Ella.

“It’s not your fault.” he said quietly. “Alright? It’s not your fault. It’s the fault of the person who killed her. You didn’t.”

“But I was supposed to warn her!” she sobbed. “She would still be alive if I warned her!”

“You don’t know that.” he said quietly. “Maybe both of you would be dead. Maybe not. But you don’t know that.”

“But-”

“I’m not going to let you die for her.” he interrupted her. “She would hate me if I did. This is not how she’s going to come back.”

“But I _want_ this!” Ella choked out. “I do! For months no one cared about what I want, for months I was treated _worse_ than a dog! I _want_ this!”

She showed him her wrists; and even though her hands were shaking he could see the scars.

“See?” she asked tearfully. “See?”

He did. And worst of all - he understood.

“I can’t do this.” he said quietly. “Not to you. You have to get better, Ella. Charlie’s death-”

his voice broke and he swallowed hard, not letting himself tear up.

“Charlie’s death lead to Elliot’s demise.” he continued quietly. “Which lead to your freedom. Don’t throw it away.”

“I think you should go.” Fish said quietly, helping sobbing Ella get up.

She led the crying girl out of the room, talking to her quietly; but before they left Fish looked at him over her shoulder and he saw her mouth a quiet _thank you_.

His initial anger at Ella didn’t pass; he suspected it’s not going to pass for a long time.

***

He tracked one of the women from Mask’s list down; Eloise Crowne, one of the last members of the nearly extinct founding family. Decades ago, the Crowne children played with the Cobblepots and the Waynes; and now the last Cobblepot was hunting the last Crowne down, determined to exchange her life for the life of his lover.

The woman lived in Crest Hill; and Oswald felt an unpleasant lump in his stomach as he thought about the possibility of Charlie bumping into her in a grocery store or during a walk in the park. Charlie was strong; but what she witnessed during the Hush gathering shook her to her core - the sheer, pointless cruelty of it, the pleasure coming from genuine pain and suffering.

Oswald’s plan was simple - he was going to break into Eloise’s house, stun or drug her and steal her away. He’d then lock her up somewhere secure, let Klarion know he found a sacrifice and drag her to the underground bunker; he wanted Eloise to be awake and conscious as the ritual takes place. He wanted her to be terrified and aware of what’s going on. He wanted her to know she’s dying.

But, like with all simple plans - things went wrong. All because he didn’t take one simple thing into consideration: namely the possibility of Eloise having cybersex using a webcam as he was sneaking through her house. It was such a small thing - but whoever was on the other side of the call saw him creep up behind her in his Penguin get-up. This person warned Eloise and called 911; and as Oswald was preparing to drag - the now unconscious due to choking - Crowe out of her house an unexpected guest made an appearance.

“Let her go, Penguin.”

“Batman!” Oswald said mockingly. “If I were you I’d let me go. We both know I’m unpredictable. Who knows what idea might come to me! Maybe I’ll blow her brains out? Or maybe I’ll snap her neck?”

“Your revenge is pointless, Penguin. This woman’s death won’t bring anyone back.”

“Maybe so!” Oswald said, realizing he finally has an upper hand - Batman had no idea about the Shade and his weird friends. “But it sure as hell will feel _good._ See, Batman, this woman here…”

He paused for a moment, carelessly patting woman’s back.

“...was a friend of late Thomas Elliot.” he continued. “You know. The man who killed my love. She likes torturing people, this one!” he said with fake amusement. “So I thought… I’ll give her a taste of her own medicine. Let her experience what she loves so much - firsthand. And then I’ll probably kill her.” he added as an afterthought. “Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll keep her… At least until I get my hands on Crane.”

“I can’t let you do this. You know it.”

“Oh, but you let me roam the streets for so long!” he said with fake sadness. “There must be a reason to it, is there not? Did you simply took pity on me? Did you think Charlie’s death will break me, make me abandon my criminal ways and reform?”

Batman didn’t answer; and Oswald laughed mockingly.

“Oh, Bat, you are _delightful._ ” he stated. “Did you forget what I promised you back then, on the rooftop? My freedom for her life - and that bit became a reality.” he said bitterly. “And for her death… I’ll burn Gotham down and paint its streets red. And this woman right here? Is the beginning of an end.”

“Let. Her. Go.”

Oswald shrugged, thinking about his options; Batman got him cornered - but behind him there was a fireplace. None of those fancy, electric ones - a real deal, with real flames almost licking his legs.

“You know what? Fine.” he said.” Have it _your_ way.”

He dropped the woman, and the flames instantly started to lick her face and hair; Batman jumped in their direction - and Oswald dived under his arm, sliding across the room. He grabbed the nearby chair and threw it at a window - the glass shattered and Oswald jumped out, landing on the white gravel outside. Not wasting any time he ran back to Charlie’s house - where her bike was still in the garage.

Moments later he was on the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge; he drove right past a squad car which was probably meant to be the first building brick of a roadblock meant to stop him. Minutes later he was in Ottisburg; he left the bike in one of his secret spots and disappeared underground.

During their previous visit there, Mask reprogrammed her bunker’s security system to recognize his eye as well; she declared he has the right to be able to visit Charlie as he pleases.

He took his mask off and moments later he was safely locked inside. He almost smiled seeing additional items that made their way inside - a camp-bed, a blanket, some food, a first aid kit, some clothes; as if the Mask knew what’s going to happen.

Charlie was still there; still frozen, still dead. She looked so peaceful - even if her skin was a shade of blue and he knew there’s no heart in her chest.

“Hello, my love.” he said, walking up to the cryo-chamber and putting his hand on the glass, as if he wanted to caress her cheek. “Tonight was a disaster.” he confessed, not taking his eyes off her face. “But I swear, I swear on everything… This is not over. You will open your eyes again soon, and I will take you into my arms.”

He waited for a moment, hoping to hear that quiet whisper again; but to no avail. So he only sighed and planted a kiss on the glass; there wasn’t much more he could do.

He didn’t sleep that night.

***

The next evening an idea came to him; it wasn’t a great idea - but an idea nevertheless.

“You know, love, I just realized something” he stated, chewing on an apple. “This is Gotham, world’s most troubled city. What if I don’t have to _look_ for a sacrifice? What if I let them come to me instead?”

He paused, waiting for an answer; he still didn’t get used to her absence, he still expected to hear her chipper responses or snarky remarks.

“Naturally Ella is out of question.” he added. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t like it, not one bit… But I’ll tell you a little secret.”

He walked up to the chamber, his eyes on her closed eyes.

“I wouldn’t mind.” he said quietly, very quietly. “At all.”

What was he trying to accomplish? A resurrection through outrage?

Whatever it was - nothing happened; so instead he picked his mask up, put it on - and used the Oracle to let Gotham know what’s going to happen.

_Hello hello, people of Gotham, the good and the bad, the wicked and the divine! The matter on hand is quite simple, really. The fortunately late doctor Elliot - devil piss on his soul - took the life of a woman I cherish and adore, the life of my Cherry, the life of my Pinniped. He took it in a fit of obsession; and she died in her sleep. She is yet another person taken away from me by Gotham - but like the saying goes… Third time’s a charm. This time I have something powerful at my disposal - magic. But oh, dearest people of Gotham… There’s a catch! For every death, there’s a birth. For every life given… Someone must die - and I’m not willing to be that person. What’s the point of bringing her back if I can’t hold her in my arms? No, no, no, it’s time for Gotham to pay me back for everything this bloody, wretched city took away from me._

_From this moment, people of Gotham, you have forty eight hours - forty eight hours to pick someone who will die so my beloved can live. I will be waiting in the Cobblepot park - and if no one is there in precisely forty eight hours… I will pick someone at random. I will strike suddenly, without a warning; you will not know where and when. One day someone will just disappear without a trace - and they will not return. But my beloved? My beloved will open her eyes and call out my name once more._

_Forty eight hours, people of Gotham. The clock’s ticking._

***

“Glad to see me, Bats?”

“Selina! I, uh… Wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“Expect the unexpected. So, boy scout… How are you dealing with Penguin’s latest plan? Need a hand? Or… A claw?”

“You wasn’t so eager to help back during Lady Arkham’s revolution. Why the change of heart?”

“Oh, Bruce. Penguin now has Black Mask and magic on his side - and I _still_ owe him something. I’m not stupid. He’ll go after me sooner or later.”

“So… What are you suggesting?”

“How about we talk first? There’s still a good twenty hours left. Tell me about this girl of his.”

“Her name’s Charlie. And… It was an unfair death. One I was supposed to stop from happening. And now Penguin has magic and is willing to kill.”

“Let’s make a deal, Bats: let _me_ handle this. I know Gotham is your turf, and I’m not known for my penchant for heroics, but… I’ve got something Penguin desperately wants. And I’m willing to trade.”

“How do I know you’re not working for him again?”

“Oh, really, Bruce? He’s after my head. I’m great at covering my ass. Let me handle this. Trust me.”

“Alright.”

***

“Oswald, you’re out of your mind.”

“It’s just Penguin now.”

“No, it’s not. I _know_ Oswald is still there, somewhere. And I know you’re hurting, but this- this won’t solve _anything_!”

“How do you know, Louise? Did you become a seer when I wasn’t looking?”

“This is not what Charlie would have wanted!”

“Charlie wanted to _help me_ , and it got her killed! So now - I’m in charge.”

“And do you think she’ll still love you if she finds out you killed a random, innocent stranger to bring her back? Do you think she’s going to be happy? Grateful?”

“No one’s truly innocent. Not in Gotham, at least. If you throw a stone in random direction, chances are you hit a killer or a thief. Not a big loss. Not a big price to pay.”

“She’ll leave you, Oswald.”

“She didn’t have any problem with me killing that man at the debate. She’s not as good as you think she is. She’s not as good as _anyone_ thinks she is. Like other people, she can be resentful and egoistic and cruel - and she’s not ashamed of it. She’s as awful as I am, and Louise - you know she’d do the same for me.”

“Unfortunately yes, and it terrifies me.”

“Love is a beautiful thing, isn’t it? It can turn a saint into a monster, a monster into a saint… But sometimes it just means two monsters find each other. And no beast is terrifying when you love them hard enough.”

“You’re pretentious.”

“I’m also right. And this monster right here - will stop at _nothing_ to bring her back. Mark my words and lock your doors. Who knows where the boogeyman may strike.”

***

The time was up; everything was ready, ready for her return. Klarion was in the bunker, ready to proceed if Oswald returns with a sacrifice; piled nearby were things Oswald asked Shade to get. Nothing special - some clothes for Charlie, her favorite blanket, some food. The thief got them about two pounds of the sweetest cherry tomatoes - and despite Charlie’s dislike of fresh tomatoes, she loved the cherry kind. She had a special way of eating them - first she’d take a tiny bite at the bottom with her front teeth, just enough to scrape off some skin and just a tiny bit of soft flesh. Then she’d slide the entire thing into her mouth, and - gently holding it in place with her teeth - press it firmly against her palate with her tongue, squeezing out the sweet juice and seed. She’d then chew and swallow and reach for another one; she could go on like this for a long time, lost in thought and the sweetness.

“So, my love.” he said, standing in front of the chamber with his mask in his hands. “Let’s see how this turns out, eh? Personally I hope someone does show up.” he admitted, putting his mask on. “I’m getting tired. Not of of fighting for you - but of your absence. I miss your presence, love. I miss _you_.”

“Do you do this often?” Klarion asked, petting his cat. “Talk to her, I mean. She can’t answer, so what’s the point?”

“It reminds me of what’s important, witch boy.” he answered, briefly glancing at his reflection in glass; he fixed his tie. “Besides, I’m used to talking to her. Old habits die hard.”

It was a rainy day; so before leaving Oswald picked up his umbrella.

The streets were completely empty and Oswald chuckled quietly, remembering the Old Testament story of the ten plagues. Like many other people, Oswald also watched _The Prince of Egypt_ ; and he remembered the tenth plague well.

It looked like no one is waiting in the Cobblepot Park; the place - renovated for Charlie’s money as a birthday gift for him - was desolate; though it was rather nice to finally see everything with his own eyes.

(He wished she could be at his side.)

But it looked like people of Gotham refused his demand; it seemed like even the most neglectful families and friends took care of their mates and made sure no one leaves to be a sacrifice.

“Such a shame.” he announced loudly, looking at the bust of his father. “A real pity.”

“I’m here.” he suddenly heard; and when he turned around - he saw a tall, lanky young man. He had a buzzcut, a band-aid on his nose and light brown skin; and his black, almond-shaped eyes seemed bottomless, filled with an intriguing mix of sadness and determination.

“A sacrifice!” Oswald said, motioning towards the boy; he hesitantly approached him. He was soaking wet, and Oswald nodded; quietly the boy stood next to him under his umbrella.

From up close, Oswald could see dark circles under his eyes, a small scar on his lower lip and light stubble on his chin.

“What’s your name?”

“Hyun-soo.” the boy replied; he was trembling, but his voice was melodious and calm. “I came because I saw your video online.”

“And you’re willing to just die? For a complete stranger?”

“My reasons are my own.” Hyun-soo said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes; and for a brief moment Oswald remembered the scars on Ella’s wrists.

Oswald nodded.

“Well, like the saying goes - don’t look a gift horse in the mouth!” he said cheerfully, patting Hyun-soo on the shoulder. “Let’s go, friend. It’ll be over soon.”

But as they were silently walking towards the exit - they heard a voice Oswald wasn’t expecting to hear ever again.

“Step away from the boy, Penguin!” Selina Kyle called out, silently landing on the ground behind them.

“Well I’ll be damned!” Oswald said mockingly, turning around. “Look who decided to show up! And here I thought cats don’t like rain.”

“Step away from him.” she repeated, straightening her back; even from the distance, even despite her goggles he could see burning determination in her eyes. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Oh, but it does.” he said quietly, tightly gripping Hyun-soo’s shoulder; the boy didn’t even wince. “He’s a willing sacrifice, Catwoman. You can’t steal his death from him.”

“I know.” she said, not moving. “But I can do something better. I can _offer_ you something better.”

“I know you’re working with Batman. You can’t trick me.”

“At least listen to my offer, Penguin.”

“Fine. You have a minute.”

“I mucked up a job for you.” she stated and he nodded; that was true. “I took the payment and switched sides. There’s no honor among thieves - but there’s _reputation_. And let’s just say… Ever since that job my business hadn’t been going great. You sent your men to bring you my head - and I got away. But I’m not going anywhere this time.”

He cocked his head, looking at her; she seemed and sounded serious.

“You’ll die.” he finally said. “There will be no more business for you, Catwoman. You’ll die.”

“A cat always falls on its feet.” she said with a shrug. “Who knows what magic has in store for me.”

He had to admit - her offer was tempting. Getting his petty revenge all while bringing Charlie back to life? The deal seemed ideal.

“It’s a deal.” he eventually said; Hyun-soo looked at him with disbelief. “Sorry, boy. Today’s not your lucky day.”

“But-”

“No buts!” Oswald interrupted him, pushing him away and walking up to Catwoman. “A good businessman can recognize a superior offer.”

He looked her up and down, absentmindedly noticing that - even despite the rain - her black lipstick was impeccable.

“It’s a deal.” he repeated, fishing a small EMP generator out of his pocket. “But first… I need to make sure it’s not a trap.”

“Sure.” she said with a shrug as he pressed the button; it was a powerful little gadget he made in his free time. Its range wasn’t particularly impressive - but it was powerful and precise, capable of taking care of everything he needed disrupted. If Catwoman had any camera or mike or an earpiece on her - it’d be enough to take care of them. He wasn’t sure about Batman’s possible surveillance drones - but even his drones had nothing against Mask’s bunker.

They left disgruntled Hyun-soo behind; and Catwoman looked oddly relaxed, considering he was leading her to her death. He watched her closely, her every move, every gesture - and she did nothing out of the ordinary, nothing suspicious.

Klarion and his cat were waiting.

“There you are!” Klarion said as they entered, his orange pet curled up on his lap. “And I see you brought someone with you!”

His cat raised his head and looked at Catwoman; and moments later he was on her shoulder, smacking her face with his fluffy tail and rubbing his body against her neck and the back of her head, meowing furiously.

“Teekl!” Klarion called out, as Selina laughed, petting the cat. “I can’t understand you when you talk so fast!”

“You _understand_ him?” Oswald asked, taking his mask off; Klarion nodded vigorously.

“Of course! Teekl’s my familiar.” he said as if it explained everything. “Teekl, slow down!”

Teekl meowed again and Klarion listened attentively, nodding from time to time.

“Oh!” he said, looking at Catwoman, who winked at him. “I see!”

“So, can we get this over with?” she asked, taking her hood and goggles off. “I have a busy schedule.”

Oswald furrowed his brows - but before he said anything, Klarion nodded.

“Sure!” he said. “Penguin, you… Look away. Flashy stuff. Bright lights.”

“But-”

“Do you want your girlfriend back, or no?” Klarion interrupted him; Oswald squinted.

“At least tell me how is it going to happen.” he said, and the witch boy sighed theatrically.

“She got her heart cut out, right? So my magic is going to put this cat’s here lifeforce into her body.” he said, motioning towards Selina. “This will lure her spirit. And as soon as the lifeforce and spirit are anchored down - my magic will manipulate the natural order of things. A new heart will grow in place of the stolen one, and once it’s ready… Her body will take care of the rest.” he said with a shrug. “Well. Her body _and_ the machine. Mask told me the machine will check her vitals, and if everything’s in order - the defrosting and waking up will begin.”

“Will she… Remember being dead?”

“That varies from person to person. Most people don’t remember anything from the moment when things went black, but… Some do. Doesn’t change them as a person though.” he added before Oswald said anything. “People _I_ bring back always come back same way they were, just slightly disoriented. Decades of practice.”

 _Decades_? Oswald raised his eyebrows - Klarion looked fifteen at best.

But he didn’t ask any more questions - he knew everything he wanted to know. It was time for Klarion to finally do his magic; and he proceeded as Oswald sat with his back to the ritual. He couldn’t hear a single word, but the bunker was filled with bright light and intense, sharp shadows.

Suddenly, everything went back to normal.

“It’s done.” Klarion announced; he sounded tired. “You can look now, but there’s not much to look at.”

He turned around, expecting to see Catwoman’s corpse on the ground - but she was most definitely alive, breathing heavily, sitting with her eyes closed, her face covered in sweat.

Klarion handed her a glass of water; she drank it in one gulp.

“I don’t understand.” Oswald admitted, pointing at her. “Shouldn’t she be dead?”

Selina opened her eyes and looked at him, smiling faintly.

“Cats have nine lives, Penguin.” she said with great effort. “That was my third one. God, you look bad in this light.” she added. “I’ve got no idea what does this girl see in you.”

“She’s telling the truth.” Klarion added; Teekl jumped on Selina’s lap. She ran her fingers through his fur and the cat curled up and purred loudly. “Both about her nine lives and you looking bad.”

“Bloody hell, Catwoman.” Oswald said, genuinely impressed. “I’m impressed. Played me like a fiddle.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, you insufferable Brit. Can I go now?”

“My job here is done.” Klarion added. “It’ll take up to a few hours for her new heart to start beating. I’ll give Shade and Sky your regards, Penguin.”

“Thanks, witch boy.” Oswald said, looking at Charlie, imagining the moment she’ll open her eyes again. “Oh, and Catwoman… If I were you, I’d keep the location of this place to myself.”

“I know better than to mess with the Mask. Give your girl my regards, Penguin. And maybe… _Don’t_ think about me when you kiss her.”

“Don’t worry.” he said, not looking at her. “You’re not my type.”

They left; and it was just him, Charlie and hours of waiting.

***

She woke up feeling dizzy and disoriented; she was naked in a small chamber, her body felt sore and everything was a bit blurry.

“Procedure complete.” a robotic voice said. “All vitals green. Opening the pod.”

The capsule she was in opened with a quiet whoosh; and her legs were so weak she nearly fell down - but someone caught her.

“O-Oswald?” she muttered, looking around, trying to figure out what’s going on.

“I’m here, love.” he choked out; he sounded like he’s holding back tears. And when she looked at his face - his red eyes with dark circles underneath and slightly sunken cheeks - suddenly everything came back to her. Elliot’s hands around her neck, the overwhelming fear, and then - nothing, until someone pulled her out of this darkness. A tiny room; Oswald’s trembling voice; and nothing again, but this time she could hear him and she screamed back, she screamed back so loud she knew he heard her.

“Oh my god.” she choked out, beginning to shake. “Y-you did it. You brought me back. I’m back! I’m alive!”

“Yes.” he whispered, wrapping her in a blanket and she threw her arms around his neck; his arms wrapped around her, firm and real and warm, felt safe, felt like home.

She kissed him, and he kissed her back; they held each other and didn’t let go, not even when there were tears streaming down their faces, tears of relief, tears of coming home.

He broke the kiss when her stomach gurgled and he laughed.

“Come on.” he said, leading her towards a nearby camp-bed. “Sit down, eat something, and then… And then we’ll go home.”

“Where’s Pingu?” she asked, already stuffing her face with cherry tomatoes; they were juicy and sweet, just the way she liked them.

“Misty and Esme took him in. He gets along with their retriever just fine.”

“And… What next? Aren’t we wanted criminals?”

“We’ll figure it out, love. For now… Let’s go home.”

They slept in each other’s arms that night, no care in the world; they knew things will work out, one way or another.

And they did; and life went on.

 


End file.
